


Berreh's Juice Bar

by Blackberreh



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Edgeplay, M/M, Oral, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Size Difference, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackberreh/pseuds/Blackberreh
Summary: A collection of my porny TF drabbles from my secret blog-Starting with some good ol' MegaRod. The suggestion given was: "'Megatron edging Rodimus using his mouth and fingers"'
Relationships: Blurr/Shockwave, Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80





	1. MegaRod

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest drabble I actually have so I'm starting with it first LMAO

Rodimus was about fragging ready to kick that smug aft face in if Megatron didn't just _HURRY UP AND FRAG HIM ALREADY_ -

The noise that escaped his vocaliser was reedy and broken sounding, hardly containing the ire and impatience he actually felt. He felt Megatron’s servos tighten on his thighs, preventing them from even twitching within his strong grip. He could barely even dig his heels into Megatron’s back where they were thrown over his shoulders - he felt too weak, was shaking too much, could only endure the sensation of that large, hot wet glossa lapping over the folds of his valve. Sometimes it delved in, deep and thick, gliding over sensetive nodes and causing his calipers to clench in want of something more. Other times it simply swept over his anterior node, the sensation followed by wicked lips that kissed and suckled, and the dangerous graze of sharp, sharp teeth.

Megatron had been at this for - for too long. Rodimus’ chronometer informed him it had been two hours since his co-captain had come his quarters and thrown Rodimus down on the berth with hardly any warning. Not that Rodimus had complained - at first! Megatron had even brought him to overload with only a couple of his large, thick fingers, and Rodimus had expected to be fragged into the berth with that nice, monstrous spike in the following seconds.

Only Megatron had pulled away and had just - stared at his valve. It was enough to make a bot feel self concious, and Rodimus had quipped some dumb joke about taking a picture and then-

Two hours. Two hours of Megatron licking and sucking and probing and stretching, never letting Rodimus’ charge crest high enough to overload. He had demanded. Demanding turned to pleading and begging. And now he couldn’t do that anymore, his thought processes an incoherent jumble that didn’t even make sense to himself. There was only the pleasure, now an almost pain, and it consumed Rodimus’ very existance.

Megatron’s face was covered in lubricant. The fluid coated his nose and cheeks and lips and chin. It coated Rodimus’ thighs and the berth beneath him, a puddle that just continued to grow and grow as Rodimus felt like he was steered further and further to the brink of insanity.

Then the bastard started _humming_. His lips closed around his anterior node, three thick fingers pressed within him with ease and _spread_ , and-

Rodimus screeched. His thighs clamped around Megatron’s helm, and his head slammed back against the berth so hard he saw stars. Or maybe that was the overload. It crested over him, gut wrenching and powerful, the scent of ozone permeating the air as his charge crackled over his frame.

Megatron’s face splattered with lubricant as his valve cycled down around his fingers, trying to draw them in deeper, and Rodimus keened low and desperate. Too much and not enough, his frame jerked and trembled, his engine and cooling fans whining from the stress of it all, and he was unsure how long it took for the flow to ebb. Finally - after what felt like too long - Rodimus slumped against the berth with absolutely nothing left to him.

He registered Megatron sitting beside him, a large servo absently caressing his helm. Face still very much drenched in his lubricant, with a bastard smirk on his bastard face and Primus Rodimus _still_ wanted him.

Megatron leaned down with a leer, flashing those sharp, sharp teeth. “I think you’re ready for my spike now, don’t you agree, Captain?”

Rodimus’ vents hitched and he whined. Weakly, he spread his legs, and Megatron moved between them with a low purr that rumbled through his frame and resonated with the pulse of his spark and Rodimus was once more lost to that maddening build of charge and heat.


	2. MegOp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFA verse = An excerpt from something bigger in which Optimus writes porn and Megatron reads it while in prison LMAO

“I’ve noticed something, little Prime.” 

Megatron’s ex-vents wafted hotly over Optimus’ audial and he couldn’t even begin to stop the shivers wracking his frame. Bent practically in half like this, his knees up to his shoulders, his interface array fully bared - it was such an overwhelmingly embarrassing pose - embarrassing and humiliating and he could feel his valve clench down on nothing, begging for something to fill it. Lubricant seeped down, past his spike, pooling on his windshield, down his aft, dropping to the berth in an audible drip-drip-drip-

Something wet and hot lapped at his audial - Megatron’s glossa - and Optimus’ vocal processor let out a glitched, static-laced whine. 

“Do you want to know what I’ve noticed?” That voice rumbled, and Optimus felt the vibration curl charge throughout his overtaxed systems.

Optimus shook his head, jerky, unable to speak.

A chuckle, another rumble that vibrated through his body, and Megatron’s claws tightened their hold on his thighs. He knew that if Megatron wanted to, he could easily break him. Easily tighten his grip and crush the metal. Easily bear down on him offline him in a matter of moments.

The thought had his spark racing, his cooling fans whirring fast and hard in an attempt to keep his frame from overheating. 

“When perusing your works, I have noticed a few… themes that keep repeating. That isn’t to say that you write the same things over and over again - rather, you tend to stick to a certain set of…. Scenarios. Kinks.”

Sharp denta nipped at sensitive metal, and Optimus couldn’t help the whimper. 

“I believe we just played one of them out, no?” That enormous frame drew back and looked down at Optimus’ contorted frame with gleaming, arousal fueled optics. “The… unsealing, yes? And another common theme in such scenarios is the… partner. If not bigger, then certainly more dominant.” Those talons squeezed on his thighs, almost threatening. “Stronger. Being manhandled. More things that align with this exact scenario. Oh, but there’s more…”  
  
A soft snick - the sound of a modesty panel opening, and sheer heat radiated against Optimus’ body as Megatron’s spike pressurised. Large - enormous - the same silver and maroon paint that coated his frame, decorated with glittering red biolights. Ridged segments, a flared head, the tip slightly pointed - 

Optimus couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was big - it was so big, logically that shouldn’t be able to fit inside of him, but -

The sheer, desperate need tore him to his very core. His valve calipers fluttered and cycled down on nothing, empty and wanting to be filled. That large, beautiful spike slid across his valve lips, parting them slightly, smearing through the drooling lubricant, and Optimus couldn’t feel the humiliation in his desperation anymore.

“Please-” Optimus sobbed, his legs jerking in an attempt to fight Megatron’s grip - to spread wider.

“Ah ah,” Megatron chuffed softly, optics almost a bright pink with charge, and he didn’t take his eyes off of Optimus’ quivering form. He moved in slow, gentle strokes, allowing his spike to tease the sensitive, energon flushed mesh of Optimus’ valve lips and to scrape ever so slightly over his anterior node. “I wasn’t done speaking yet, little Prime. Maybe show some restraint, hmm?”


	3. BlurrWave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFA verse - I love blurrwave and i wish I had ideas for a longer fic BUT FOR NOW TAKE THIS WITH A SHITTY SKETCH

"You look so good wrapped around me, I could keep you on my spike for hours; would you like that?"

“Please-” The small Autobot gasped, fingers scrabbling for purchase across Shockwave’s chassis. He felt impaled, spread open impossibly wide, the plating of his abdomen bowing around the sheer size of the spike inside of him. It was a wonder it had even fit at all, he had no idea _how_ it had fit, and Blurr felt that if he focused on it he was going to break-

“’Please’?” The Decepticon hummed and nuzzled the side of Blurr’s helm, his engines rumbling in a soft purr that vibrated all the way to Blurr’s core. “Is that truly what you want then? We have the time. There is no rush. I spent all that time stretching you out… You are gaping for me, my dear, and you are taking me so well. You’d like to spend more time like this, wouldn’t you?”

“I - I can’t-” Blurr gasped, squirming and sobbing as the movement caused that enormous spike to shift within him, brushing against every node and causing fire to fill his lines. “I can’t - it’s too much-”

“Oh but you can.” Shockwave murmured. Dangerous claws caressed the bow of Blurr’s spinal strut in a gesture of comfort. “You can, and you will. You will do it for me, won’t you, my dear Blurr?”

Blurr could only whine, and after a spark beat, nodded his assent. 


	4. MegOp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFA verse - Prompt was Optimus' pouty dick sucking lips lmao

“Has anyone ever told you that your lips were made to suck spike?”  
  
The words were said in that sort of bland, lazy rumble that shouldn’t have gotten Optimus’ engine revving as much as it did.   
  
The tone was sort of insulting though. Almost like Megatron _wasn’t_ at all affected by the way Optimus’ mouth was stretched to near breaking point trying to take the warlord’s massive spike. The head was already pressed to the back of his intake and he was working on relaxing more in an attempt to see if he could take in any more.  
  
He was barely half-way, and Megatron was being oh so patient, massive servo gently petting Optimus’ helm, claws raking over twitching finials.  
  
That servo was - very distracting, actually. He was supposed to be angry at the warlord’s tone.  
  
Optimus mustered up a glare - most certainly ineffectual with his lips stretched so wide and optical fluid leaking down his cheeks from the strain. But he didn’t let it waver.  
  
Megatron only laughed, a loud rumble of delight, and gently urged Optimus’ head down further. 


	5. Prowl/?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDW verse - sentence starter was "Bend over," he orders from behind Prowl, tracing a digit down the mech's spinal strut lightly.
> 
> So. The mech Prowl is with is a mystery. Y'all can put whoever you want in there-

"Bend over," he orders from behind Prowl, tracing a digit down the mech's spinal strut lightly.

A shudder rippled across his plating, and Prowl struggled to keep his vents even. He moved without proper thought, his processor clouded with the charge of high grade and arousal, and bent over the desk.  
  
His desk.  
  
Right this was - his office. It was dark, when they had stumbled in with locked lips and wandering hands. He knew it like the back of his own servo, yet even still, he fumbled. He gripped the edge, spinal strut arching and aft up - doorwings held high and tense, quivering.  
  
His panel snapped open without any prompting. He felt a flash of humiliation at his own eagerness - at the wetness already seeping from his ready valve. He felt it trickle down his thigh - and barely held back a whimper when he felt a single finger swipe it up.  
  
He tightened his grip on the edge of the desk, venting rapidly.   
  
A hum sounded behind him, that finger returning to lightly trace the throbbing lips of his valve. “So wet for me already, dear commander. What would your troops think of you if they saw you like this? So… desperate to be filled?”  
  
Prowl grit his dentae, refusing to look over his shoulder and glare. Even as his spark trembled and plating flared, frame heating at just the thought. “Just - get on with it-”  
  
A chuckle, and then there were servos on his hips and a thick, hot spike was easing into him, and Prowl let out a static laced moan. 


End file.
